Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the EastFenn, George Manville
General
Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the East
Fenn, George Manville
Great Britain. Army -- Colonial forces -- India -- Juvenile fiction; Young men -- Juvenile fiction
Then I listened to faint distant sounds in the rajah's village, and to
the howling of the jackals, with the croakings, whisperings, and
mutterings which came out of the black forest, all sounding so weird and
strange that I was glad to keep going from post to post, to chat in a
whisper with the men, and make sure that no attempt at evasion was being
made by our prisoners, who all appeared to be asleep.
And so my part of the uneasy night watch passed away, and I was relieved
by Brace.
"Thought out anything?" I said.
"No," he replied. "Have you?"
I shook my head, and went and lay down to drop asleep on the instant,
and wake up at daybreak according to my custom.
I had hardly risen when the doctor came to me.
"Vincent, my lad," he said, "I don't think Craig is any worse, but he is
uneasy. He has got something on his mind, and wants to speak to you."
"To me?" I said eagerly. "I'll go."
I hurried to where the poor fellow lay, and he signed to me to kneel
down by him.
"Why, Craig, man," I said, "what is it?"
"What is it?" he said angrily. "That doctor has been giving me stuff to
keep me asleep just at a time when I could help you all so."
"Help us? How? With that plan of yours for getting the guns and horses
back?"
"Yes," he whispered eagerly. "I wouldn't say a word to any one else as
I spoke to you first."
I looked at him curiously.
"Oh no," he said, as he interpreted my look. "I'm not feverish or
delirious. Quite calm and cool, sir. Listen!"
I bent down, and he began talking in a low whisper, full of earnestness,
as he unrolled his plan, and as he went on my heart began to beat, and
my cheeks to flush.
"That makes your eyes sparkle, sir, doesn't it?" he said. "That will
do, won't it?"
"Do, Craig!" I whispered. "It's glorious. If it succeeds, they ought
to give you a commission."
"Think so?" he said. "Ah, well, perhaps I shan't live to want it. But
what are you going to do?"
"Go and tell the captain, of course," I cried.
"That's right; go and tell him, sir," whispered the wounded man; "and
good luck to you. Oh, if I could only have been in the game!"
"I wish from my heart you could have been, Craig," I said, pressing his
hand.
"And you won't leave me behind, sir, to the crows?"
"If you are left behind, Craig, I shall be left behind too," I said.
"But left! Why, you'll be riding on a limber or in the waggon, man.
There, I must go and tell him. Hurrah! Oh, Craig, if I had only been
born with a brain like yours!"
"Perhaps you would have only wasted your life, sir, as I did. But go
along and tell him, and God bless your efforts, for it may mean saving
thousands of innocent lives, and preventing the pandies from running
riot over the country, and marking their track in blood."
The next minute I was seeking Brace, feeling that I had the guns under
my hands; and so occupied that I did not notice a peculiar fact.
Our prisoners were not in their customary places, though the sentries
were on guard!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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